


Behave yourself, Chuck

by istanbul_let (friscoalex)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Masturbation in Shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friscoalex/pseuds/istanbul_let
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck takes cold shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behave yourself, Chuck

**Author's Note:**

> Originally in russian.  
> Written for Charlie and kindly translated by him.

The tiled shower wall remains dry and cold. Water pours so it almost doesn't get to it, and Chuck stands there, pressing his forehead against the wall, feeling hot streams flowing between his shoulder blades, trying to stop thinking. It's such a stupid thing to do; everything that has happened today comes to his mind, some completely boring details of conversations in the mess hall, some strategic calculations, some nonsense he doesn't need at all. 

He is standing under the shower and trying to erase all the thoughts out of his head, shifting from one foot to the other, spreading his legs, rubbing his forehead against the cold tile wall. His head is aching. And so the bend of his right elbow does, because he's standing under the shower for twenty minutes by now and still can't come. It reminds him of jokes about blisters on the hands, and for some reason he thinks if it is possible to rub a blister on his dick, and such thoughts would definitely turn him off.. But they just fucking don't, and he rubs his head against the wall, and his back is wet, his fingers are wet, his underbelly is nagging, and probably, for full happiness, his balls would start to nag soon too, and that's indeed... 

The collar pinches his neck so he can't lower his head. It doesnt' look like Max' collars - narrow, with spikes or studs, so you can pick it with one finger, if he was naughty, and pull closer if you need to distract him or hold back. No, his collar is wide and thick, it cuts into his throat a bit, but Dad always pushes two fingers under, clasping it so it doesn't squeeze Chuck's neck, so he could breathe. W hen he is standing on his knees, he almost always wants to lower his head - but not because he doesn't want to look into Herc's eyes. Because those five seconds, when Herc's fingers are sinking into his hair on the back of the head and lifting his head up, are worth lowering it again and again. 

Please, Daddy. It is stuck in Chuck's mind and he rubs his forehead against the cold tile. It seems that it started as a mockery, it seems that he did not expect that it would go straight to his dick, the way Herc looked at him at the moment when Chuck had said it for the first time. And then repeated. Again and again. And then he was whining, moaning and whimpering. 

His ears are burning. He is standing under the shower, brokenly jerking off for a fucking eternity, and his ears are burning, because the memories draw him in as well as in the drift, because for some reason he remembers damn well how he was standing on all fours yesterday, all sweaty, whimpering and squirming, while Herc had been fingering him. 

Fucking him with his fingers. 

He never realizes, how many of them he takes. He almost always comes before Herc even unzip his jeans, and after that he is only able to moan faintly, burying his face in the floor or in the bed, all sweaty, soft, relaxed. 

Please, Dad, he whispers, and Herc gives him fingers in his mouth. His finger-pads are roughened and a bit salty because of cigarettes, and Chuck's mouth is aching, Chuck's cock becomes hard, most likely that Chuck's ass is already squeezing as a reflex, because he wants these fingers everywhere, he wants to feel them fucking his mouth, again and again, stretching his lips, caressing his tongue, holding when Herc slaps him for being not careful with his teeth. 

The water is getting colder and colder but Chuck doesn't care. His hand is jerking, and he doesn't even realize that he's slid down the wall, almost bent over, that he is shoving his wet with water but not lubricated fingers between his buttocks, feeling that his aroused fucking ass is squeezing, again and again. 

When Herc came on his face for the first time, Chuck had come right in his tightly fastened pants, feeling somehow very clearly how the metal belt buckle cut into his belly. The next time Herc came inside him, and Chuck didn't have time to feel anything - because a couple of seconds later, Herc pushed his fingers inside, one, or two, or three, or four, - he never understands how many of them he takes - and continued to fuck him with his hand until Chuck almost cried in the offered palm, that grasped his mouth with stone grip. 

Please, Daddy. Please. I was a good boy. Dad. Daddy. Give me more, please. Pleasedaddydadgivememoredaddyplease. 

He rubs his forehead against the cold tile wall and comes, finally, shuddering and moaning, pushing his fingers inside and squeezing his hand.


End file.
